


For Just One Night

by Miko no da (Miko)



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-01-01
Updated: 2001-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 07:04:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3240725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miko/pseuds/Miko%20no%20da
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A b-day fic written by request for Kalove. What might have been, if not for circumstances between enemies. </p><p>(Posting OLD fics off my defunct website)</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Just One Night

Quatre sighed, and shoved his long blond bangs out of his face for perhaps the hundredth time that day. He was tired, he was cranky, he'd had a VERY long trip, and he really didn't feel like continuing to be polite to the snooty desk clerk who was currently eying him disdainfully.

"Please, I made the reservations over the phone just a day ago. Surely it must be listed somewhere!" he pleaded wearily.

"There does not seem to be any listing for you, Mr... what did you say your name was?" The clerk sniffed at him, as if a name were something too grand for such a grubby looking child to possess.

"Winner," Quatre replied, sighing again. "Quatre Raberba Winner. I called by phone yesterday..."

"Mr. Winner!" Another, more civil clerk - apparently of higher rank, judging by the way the first clerk hastily got out of his way - rushed up upon overhearing the name. "Of course we have your reservation, Jean-Paul must have simply been entering the name incorrectly. We're very pleased to serve the Winner heir in any way that we can."

Quatre took a sort of abstract pleasure in seeing the first clerk's face go pale as he realized just WHO the tired, disheveled teen he'd been talking down to was. "Of course, I understand," He replied politely, though in truth, he was ready to scream in frustration. All he wanted was to get to his room and take a nice, long nap before he had to start the mission tomorrow.

The new clerk continued to murmur reassurances and polite drivel, and Quatre tuned it out. By Allah, he was so TIRED of being 'the Winner heir' everywhere he went - even if it DID mean that he got to watch the reactions of people like 'Jean-Paul' when they realized who they had just snubbed. After another few eternities, he was finally handed his key card, and made his way towards the elevators.

 _I'm glad none of the Maguarnacs are here right now,_ Quatre thought numbly as he stared blankly at the rising numbers. _They look up to me - their Quatre-sama, always bright, always cheerful, no matter what. They take strength from me. But dammit... there are times when I don't WANT to be bright, or cheerful. There are times when I want to throw a massive temper tantrum - just throw myself on the floor and kick and scream until I get it all out of my system._

Despite himself, he had to chuckle at the thought. _Well, okay... maybe I wouldn't actually throw myself on the floor and kick and scream. I'd be far too embarrassed that I was causing a scene. But it IS nice not to have to put up a façade for anyone._

A loud 'ding' startled him out of his thoughts, and he hauled himself and his bag off the elevator onto the twelfth floor. Checking the card they'd given him, he made his way to room 1224 and unlocked the door. Shoving it open, he dumped his bag on the dresser and flopped down onto the king-size bed, still fully clothed.

_Allah, what a trip! I never realized how much Rashid and the others do to ease my way. But I couldn't bring them on this mission; it's far too dangerous. Not that all our missions aren't dangerous... but I just can't risk them on this one._

Rolling over onto his stomach, he rested his head on his arms. _It was nice to see Trowa again though... even if he was being mean. Such a shame... the most expression I've ever seen on his face, and it was anger. I still don't understand why he was mad at me for being there. Did he want to do it by himself? He certainly doesn't seem to like to spend time with others._

Quatre grinned... that was an understatement if ever he'd made one. He still knew next to nothing about the mysterious green-eyed pilot. Only that he went by the name Trowa Barton, which wasn't his own; that he knew at least as much about piloting and repairing a Gundam as Quatre; and that he was a virtuoso on the flute.

 _And that he's just about the most attractive person I've ever met._ Quatre sighed again. He'd had inklings that he was 'different' back on L4, but he hadn't been certain until he'd met Trowa. "Father will NOT be pleased," he mumbled aloud, burying his face in his hands.

Not that his father would be particularly pleased with him anyway, given the way he'd snuck away and come to earth with SandRock, and was now engaging in that one act which his father despised above all others - war.

"I had no choice," he repeated to himself what was quickly becoming his mantra. "The colonies need their freedom, and this is the ONLY way. And if tomorrow's mission goes off without a hitch... I'll be free to go home."

 _Assuming there is a home for me to return to._ Quatre shook his head and dismissed such negative thoughts. His father would be angry, but would eventually forgive him... if nothing else, one of Quatre's many older sisters would wheedle him into it. Quatre smiled fondly at the thought.

_They may be a pain sometimes, and I may not even be able to keep TRACK of them all, but they ARE nice to have around, once in awhile._

Toeing his shoes off, he crawled further onto the bed, collapsing face up this time, staring at the ceiling. _Odd. Now that I'm finally up here, I don't feel tired any more. In fact... I'm full of energy. We're so close to finishing this, to ending it once and for all. I'm not sure I can sleep like this. But what else is there to do?_

He debated calling for room service, or ordering a movie. But he didn't understand much English, and he wasn't hungry. Besides, he needed to MOVE, to get out and work off some of this nervous energy, so he wouldn't be a gibbering wreck tomorrow.

 _I know! This hotel has a dance club in the bottom floor, doesn't it? I don't really have anything appropriate to wear... but I'm sure the concierge would be happy to open the hotel's stores for 'the Winner heir'... and I'll bet I won't have any trouble getting in, either, even if I AM underage... yes, this is exactly what I need. I'll go dance off my energy, sleep well tonight, and be in top shape for the mission tomorrow._ Eyes wide with excitement, he reached for his credit card, and the phone.

 

* * *

Treize relaxed back against the bar, a drink with a ridiculously suggestive name held lightly in one hand, surveying the dance floor. Cornflower blue eyes tracked the abstract patterns made by the dancers, pausing briefly here or there to linger on those who were particularly attractive or skilled. Or both, such as that one blond boy on the left side.

He still couldn't quite believe he'd gotten away without a hitch. Tomorrow, his plans for the overthrowing of the outdated Federation would begin - quite possibly starting with the regrettable, but necessary, deaths of General Noventa and those who supported him. The world was not yet ready for the policies preached by that great man - any peace now achieved would only postpone the inevitable, possibly to a time when Treize himself would have no control over the consequences. If there had to be a war - and Treize was eminently aware that there did, indeed, HAVE to be a war at this time - then he wanted to be on hand to help direct it. To make certain that at least one person involved was not doing so purely for his or her own benefit.

Not that he was being altruistic - far from it. He fully intended to come out of this with shining honours and a nice retirement nest egg. But he would NOT do so at the expense of his soldiers' lives, as others might.

With the coup expected to begin tomorrow, he SHOULD have been safely tucked away in his office at the New Edwards missile base, making certain all the last minute details had been attended to. At the very least, he should be catching some much-needed rest in his bed at said missile base. Instead, he was sitting at the bar in a crowded, noisy hotel dance club, surrounded by the reek of human sweat and pheromones, watching the pulsating masses of dancers.

 _Such a pity Milliard isn't here,_ Treize mused, sipping daintily at his drink. He made a face, surprised at the sour taste; then decided that he liked it, and took a larger sip, swirling about over his tongue as if he were tasting a fine wine. _I remember when we used to do this every weekend, sneak out of our quarters and hit the local bar incognito. What a magnificent time we had then! He and I would sweep the dance floor, and no one the wiser to who we REALLY were... the Blond Bombshells, I remember hearing someone refer to us once. A shame he's in Nairobi... ah, Une may have her quirks, but she's a loyal enough officer that I'm more than willing to indulge her. And she's right - we DID need a more competent officer there. But gods, I do miss him so..._

Treize sighed, and took a healthier gulp of his drink. It was times like these, sneaking away from his duties to enjoy himself in a club, that he was forcefully reminded just how young he really was. _Only 24... a good number of those in this club are older than that. As Milliard frequently reminds me, I should take the time to have 'fun' more often, instead of plotting to take over the world._

He had to laugh at that last, thinking that he was making himself sound like some mad scientist with evil plots to rule the earth. _It's like something out of a dime novel - or one of those horrid animated television shows Milliard insists on watching every Saturday morning._

A shift in the flow of the dancing brought his attention back to the left. A circle of empty space had surrounded the blond child he'd noted earlier; unusual enough on such a packed dance floor. More unusual still, those around him had stopped their own dancing to watch him, and were now cheering and clapping him on. Treize found himself taking a closer look.

 _He really is exquisite,_ he thought, blue eyes following the frenetic movements of the boy's dance. _And a very talented dancer. He can't possibly be older than sixteen, though... I wonder how he got in here?_

The blond moved to the beat as though he'd been born with the music in his blood, the gestures of his limbs graceful and elegant, yet full of primal heat and suggestion at the same time. He wore dark khaki dress pants, with the top button undone, Treize noticed; the mid-purple cable-knit sweater suited his fair colouring, while the robin's egg blue vest he had layered over that brought out the sweet colour of his eyes. _Anyone else would be boiling in here, in that outfit, but he hasn't even broken a sweat,_ Treize observed with interest. He spent a great deal of time with one or both arms above his head, which had the delicious effect of raising his sweater to reveal his navel.

More and more people were abandoning their own dancing to watch the boy, but he seemed oblivious to the attention, his eyes-half closed in concentration, the tip of his tongue peeking enticingly from between pink lips as he danced. Finally, he seemed to run out of breath, and wound gradually to a halt.

Only then did he notice his audience, jumping as they all began applauding his efforts. With a sunny smile that had just a touch of irony, he swept them all a bow, before wiping his forehead and making his way across the floor to the bar.

He stopped three seats down from Treize's place at the polished wooden bar, plopping down into a seat and turning a winning smile on the bartender. "Coca-cola, please," he said, his English heavily accented with something Treize didn't recognize. The bartender slid a tall glass filled with brown liquid and ice across to the boy, who immediately gulped half of it down, obviously very thirsty.

Up close, he was even more attractive; wide, innocent aqua eyes, with a sharp intellect lurking behind the guile, and a lean, wiry build that suited him very well indeed. His slightly overlong hair fell into his face, sticking damply as he raised the water-beaded glass and ran it over his flushed cheeks. Treize fought the itch to smooth those itinerant bangs out of the way, wanting an excuse to touch that peaches-n'-cream skin.

 _Baka. He's far too young for you. What on earth are you thinking? You don't have time for a fling, even if he WEREN'T young enough to put you in jail for trying._ He was still debating with himself over whether or not to introduce himself - especially given his rather limited knowledge of English, which was the primary language in this area - when someone beat him to the punch.

"Hey, sweet stuff, haven't seen you around here before." The man who sauntered up to the boy was easily in his late forties, balding, and with a distinct paunch. But for all his seeming harmlessness, there was something about him that screamed 'predator' to Treize's finally honed senses.

_I remember getting a few of those type sniffing around me when I was younger... and I remember having to pry more than a few off of Milliard, before he was big enough to defend himself. Blast it, I don't have the right to interfere... but I can't let him sucker this poor child into something nasty._

The blond frowned gently, then shook his head and replied in broken English. "I'm sorry... not understand English well. Please forgive."

"Aw, that's okay, sweet cheeks. I'm not really interested in talking anyway." The man shifted a little closer, and the boy edged back a bit on his stool. "What say the two of us have a dance?"

The child nibbled his lip in what was apparently a habitual nervous gesture, and glanced around uncertainly before shaking his head. "Thank you, no."

The man's face darkened momentarily, and Treize felt a flash of unease - a flash apparently echoed by the boy, for he frowned more deeply and began looking for an escape route. The older man had him thoroughly blocked in against the bar, however, and there was nowhere for him to go.

Then the man's face cleared, and he again wore a coaxing expression. "Come on, honey... you don't come to a place like this, alone, and dance like that, unless you're looking for some. I may not look it, but I got plenty of cash to convince you..."

There was a hint of panic in the boy's expression now, as he realized what the man was after. "I'm sorry... I don't understand... please..." Blue-green eyes latched onto Treize's, and pleaded silently. *Help me!*

Treize nodded once, then stood and approached the pair. The older man ignored him, until he actually reached out to place one hand lightly on the boy's shoulder.

"Sascha, there you are," he said in his own heavily accented English. The man's eyes narrowed, as he turned to take in the person encroaching on him and his prey. "I've been looking for you."

 

* * *

Quatre was nearly overwhelmed with relief when the man sitting a few seats away at the bar silently acknowledged his plea for help. He stood, revealing himself to be just over six feet tall, and made his way over to where Quatre was pinned against the bar, helpless before this obnoxious man who obviously thought he was selling something he wasn't...

"Sascha, there you are," the tall man said, reaching out to clasp Quatre's shoulder familiarly. His accent sounded German, or maybe Russian, and it was obvious that English was no more his first language than it was Quatre's. "I've been looking for you." The ginger haired young man turned earnestly to Quatre's tormentor. "My friend, he is not bother you? He and I very new to America, not understand customs..."

The balding man sized up the newcomer, glanced once at the hand on Quatre's shoulder, and apparently decided his interest in the little blond wasn't worth tangling with this tall, well-built man who was obviously not a stranger to a fight. "Just thought he might like to dance," the man replied in his most oily voice.

Quatre desperately latched on to the first excuse that came to mind, hoping his rescuer would forgive him. "I promise dance already, ne?" He beamed up at the tall man, trying to act as if he'd known this stranger all his life.

"Ah," his rescuer agreed, pulling him to his feet. The fast music had just begun to segue into a slower melody, as couples began to pair off on the dance floor. Quatre willingly followed his new friend onto the floor, allowing himself to be pulled close to a lean, muscled body, watching all the while from the corner of his eyes as the oily, balding man slunk away to find other, easier prey.

At last, he breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "Thank you," he said, beaming up at his benefactor.

"No trouble," the tall man replied, winking at him. "Got me dance with you, ne?"

For a moment, Quatre thought he might have just jumped from the frying pan into the fire, before he registered the light-hearted teasing in the man's startlingly blue eyes. "Hai," he laughed, and snuggled a little closer.

"You speak Japanese?" The man now asked, speaking flawlessly in that language. Relieved that they would apparently be able to communicate without resorting to their rather inadequate English skills, Quatre nodded.

"Hai. Quatre desu. Anata wa?"

There was a brief pause, so brief Quatre decided he must have imagined it. "Mischa," the man replied, smiling down at him. "I was watching you dance earlier - you're very talented!"

Quatre was surprised to find himself blushing. Despite his fair skin, he actually didn't blush all that often. "Ah. Thank you. I don't get much of a chance to get out and dance, but I enjoy doing it."

"I, as well," Mischa said. "I must admit, I'm rather playing hooky at the moment. I simply felt stifled in my office, and needed to get out an act my age for a change. Speaking of age, how DID you get in here? You can't possibly be legal drinking age... no offense."

"None taken," Quatre answered. "I bribed the bouncer, to be perfectly honest." He giggled. "I wasn't going to drink anyway, so I don't see what harm it could have caused."

"You need to be more careful about people like that charming fellow I rescued you from, though," Mischa cautioned him. "There won't always be a well built bruiser like me around who's willing to help you out."

Quatre laughed. "Well built bruiser? I might agree with the first part, but you hardly strike me as the 'bruiser' type!" Then he blushed again as he realized he'd just admitted that he found his dance partner attractive.

 _Well, so what? I DO find him attractive - very attractive._ In navy blue dress slacks and a light blue polo shirt that clung to his muscled torso, Mischa struck a very enticing figure. A rather familiar figure, actually, though Quatre couldn't quite put his finger on where he might have seen the man before.

Mischa grinned rakishly as the music sped up - not enough to bring it back to the 'fast dance' category, but enough to allow a little more movement than just swaying from side to side. "Tell me, Quatre, are you as good a slow dancer as you are a fast dancer? And would you be willing to indulge me? It's been far too long since I had the chance, and my normal dance partner is on another continent at the moment, and for the foreseeable future."

"Can I dirty dance, you mean?" Quatre grinned back. No one would ever suspect it to look at him, but dirty dancing was actually a secret passion of his. Not one he got to indulge in often, under the watchful eyes of first his sisters, then the Maguarnacs, however.

He sped up his motions a little, sliding his arms from around his partner's waist to rest lightly on his biceps. Mischa followed his lead, swaying against him in such a way that it would look, from a distance, as if they were humping one another through their clothes. With a wicked smile, Quatre decided that he was having far too much fun to stop there, and picked up the pace.

 

* * *

Treize felt just the slightest twinge at not telling his new dance partner his real name, but there was no sense in taking chances. Granted, his name and face weren't well known in civilian circles, but it would be silly of him to blow his cover now. And those civilians who DID know his name, tended not to be over fond of him - he was enjoying this dance, and didn't care to have it disrupted by the very politics he'd come here to escape. Besides, Mischa WAS a nickname which he had been called by in childhood, and which he often used when he didn't want to be recognized.

Quatre moved lithely against him, their bodies swaying together in perfect rhythm, and he found himself abandoning himself to the movements. It HAD been far too long since he'd had a chance to do this, and although his current partner was much shorter than he was used to, he adjusted with no problems.

The little blond twisted about in his light embrace, pressing his back against Treize's torso and grinding his hips in a most delicious circular motion. Treize followed his lead, placing his hands lightly on the boy's waist and locking them into synch. Quatre threw his head back to rest lightly on Treize's chest, his arms reaching back to cup the older man's ass suggestively.

Treize caught his breath as he felt his body react, his erection pressing lightly into the top of Quatre's soft buttocks. He half expected the boy to turn away, disgusted, or worse, fearful. Instead, the slightest of smirks crossed those cherubic features, and he ground himself more forcefully against Treize.

"You..." the word escaped the Colonel on an explosion of breath, as his hands tightened convulsively on Quatre's hips. The blond smiled up at him, hidden fire dancing deep in his aqua eyes. Treize bit back a groan, and tried again, proud that his voice came out only slightly raspy. "Quatre, my dear boy, you are quite possibly the most enticingly fey creature that I have ever had the fortune to meet; you are also young enough that I might very possibly be arrested for reacting to you in this manner."

A sylvan laugh floated up through the music. "I won't tell if you won't..." he murmured softly, keeping his gaze locked on Treize's.

"Quatre..." Treize was uncertain how to proceed. He WANTED this child, wanted him badly, but he was also intensely aware of how this must look to the others in the club. It was entirely possible that one of THEM might call the police, concerned for the boy, just as he himself had been, earlier.

"Mischa," Quatre breathed his name, and turned in his arms to snuggle against his chest. "I..." he seemed to hesitate, as if searching for words or debating with himself. "I've been sheltered a lot as a child, I know that... but I also know what I want. Right now, I want to forget all about what's going on out there, in the real world. I want to abandon myself to my feelings, and do what *I* want for a change, instead of what others expect me to do." He sighed, and shoved his bangs from his eyes with one hand. There was a hint of sadness in his expression.

"To be truthful, I'm using you, at least as much as you might be using me," he continued, with a gentle smile. "Death lurks just around the corner for all of us, and we never really know how much time we have left. I... I don't want to risk dying, without ever knowing this sort of pleasure."

Treize frowned... the child sounded as if he fully expected to die within the next twenty-four hours. It was a most morbid point of view, and Quatre struck him as anything but the morbid type. "Quatre..."

"PLEASE, Mischa," he all but begged, aqua eyes wide. "If you really don't want this, that's one thing; but please don't turn me down because of my age. I don't want my only regret in this world to be that I missed this opportunity."

Treize was struck by the intensity of the boy's plea, and acquiesced before he quite realized what he was doing. "Far be it from me to be the source of your one regret," he murmured, brushing his thumb along the trembling bottom lip.

Quatre's face exploded into a smile, and he wrapped his arms firmly around Treize's waist. "Thank you," he whispered. He tilted his face up, in what was clearly an invitation, and Treize didn't hesitate.

He brushed his lips softly against the velvet ones beneath him, hardly more than a butterfly kiss. Even that small contact affected him all out of proportion to its intensity, leaving him breathing faster and with a noticeable swelling in his trousers. Quatre was no less affected, the teal eyes heavy-lidded and red lips parted sweetly.

Glancing around, Treize saw that the other dancers hadn't yet noticed them, but their luck surely would not hold out much longer. "This is not the most appropriate place," he murmured, thinking furiously. He certainly couldn't bring the boy back to the base with him...

"I have a room upstairs," Quatre replied, solving the problem handily. Twining his fingers through Treize's, he tugged the older man gently towards the door.

The silence as the door to the club swung shut behind them came nearly as a blow, and Treize began to have second thoughts. Really, could this boy possibly be old enough to know just what he was asking for? Perhaps this was a mistake after all, caused by his longing for Milliard...

"Don't question it, Mischa," Quatre murmured softly as he led the way to the elevators. Treize glanced down, startled to have had his thoughts read so handily. Quatre smiled gently up at him. "Just trust me. I know what I'm doing, and I want this." There was no doubt in his aqua gaze, only resolution - and desire. Treize firmly placed his second thoughts to one side.

No sooner had the elevator doors closed than Quatre was on him, a warm, live, squirming bundle of human flesh; apparently determined to drive him out of his mind. Soft hands wormed their way beneath his polo shirt, caressing his flat stomach and taut chest in appreciation. He worked his own hands under the heavy sweater, seeking for and finding the silky skin he'd been catching glimpses of all night. Their mouths meshed and tongues tangled, and Treize found that while Quatre was definitely inexperienced, he more than made up for it in enthusiasm.

They missed the 'ding' and the swooshing of the elevator doors opening, and might very well have ended up back in the lobby, if not for the embarrassed cough of the man waiting to get on. Blushing slightly, the two jerked apart, both uncomfortably aware of the disapproving look the man was giving them. Treize seized Quatre's hand firmly in his own, and sauntered nonchalantly off the elevator, haughtily ignoring the 'harumph' of the waiting man.

Quatre led the way to his room, his cheeks still flaming as he worked the key card and swung the door open, allowing Treize to precede him into the room. Flipping on the lights, Treize's eyebrow rose as he took in the quality of the room. _One of the more expensive rooms in the hotel, if I don't miss my guess,_ he thought to himself, looking at the fabulous view out the 12th story window. _And this is NOT an inexpensive hotel. Whoever this boy is, he is not without resources._ "You're staying here alone?" Was all he said aloud, turning to face Quatre.

"Ah," Quatre answered, seemingly nervous now that they were finally alone. He smiled, somewhat hesitantly. "My mother died giving birth to me, and my father... is very busy. Ordinarily, Rashid or one of the others would be here with me, but..." he shrugged, and grinned. "To be honest, I kind of snuck out. I was tired of being coddled and protected.

"Quatre..." Treize sighed and drew the boy into a gentle, asexual hug. "If you are having second thoughts..."

"Oh, no!" Quatre shook his head. "It's just... well, to be honest... I've never done this before, and I'm not really sure what comes next."

Treize grinned at him. "What you were doing in the elevator is a very good start. Shall we pretend that obnoxious man never existed, and take things from there?"

"Ah." Quatre pushed up on his tiptoes and caught Treize's mouth with his own.

It didn't take long for them both to get back into the spirit of things, and Treize quickly found that he wanted to see what his little blond treasure looked like OUT of those bulky clothes. He slid the vest over Quatre's shoulders, and tugged suggestively on the hem of the sweater. Quatre obligingly raised his arms, and allowed the older man to pull the heavy garment off him completely.

"Ahhhhhh..." Treize sighed in satisfaction, holding the boy a little away from him to look his fill. Quatre blushed, but made no move to cover his exposed torso.

The barest hint of a suntan kissed his porcelain skin, giving him a warm, healthy glow. The khaki dress pants fit him snugly, doing little to conceal the excited bulge in the front. Quatre tugged at the hem of Treize's tight-fitting polo shirt, but was unable to reach high enough to get it over his head. Laughing, Treize took his own shirt off, his ego demanding that he pose just a bit, to let Quatre get a good look at him.

And look he did, licking his lips, cerulean eyes wide with anticipation. Nimble fingers danced along the hard planes of his chest, pausing at a nipple, then stroking away down towards his stomach. "Sugoi," Quatre breathed, his eyes following his hands' path.

Treize blushed a little. "I'd hardly go that far," he protested mildly, running his own hands over Quatre's creamy shoulders and back. "Though I do try to keep myself in good shape."

"You've succeeded," Quatre responded, both to his words and to his touch, arching his back a little to press more firmly against Treize's hand. A little gasp escaped him as Treize caressed the line of his neck, and he nearly purred with pleasure.

"So responsive," Treize murmured, stroking that spot again. Quatre's eyes slid closed, and he sighed. Treize leaned over, bathing the shell of his ear with his tongue. Quatre shuddered, and leaned against him for support as if his legs could no longer hold him up. "I wonder where else you are so sensitive?"

"Why don't you... ahhh!... find out?" Quatre tightened his grip on Treize's waist as the older man accepted the invitation, and trailed his mouth lower.

"The height difference is becoming just a bit awkward," Treize chuckled quietly, and scooped the boy up in his arms. Quatre squeaked in surprised, then wrapped his arms around Treize's neck and snuggled in as the tall man strode over to the large bed. "This should be much more comfortable for us both," he continued, dumping the blond onto the firm mattress, and tumbling after him.

He found himself with a double handful of squirming human flesh, and Quatre tried to kiss every inch of his chest at once. Sharp teeth latched onto a taut nipple and the Colonel gasped in surprise, arching into the contact. One hand cupped the back of Quatre's head, the other his shoulder, holding him tightly.

Quatre continued to worry at Treize's nipple with his teeth, probing lightly with the tip of his tongue as well, making him moan helplessly with passion. One hand trailed down over the washboard stomach, to tease along the edge of his dress pants. Treize arched up, encouraging a more forceful touch, but Quatre's hand danced away. Again and again, the little blond would brush his hand up against Treize's burning erection, only to trail away to less sensitive areas the moment Treize began to respond.

Finally, Treize got fed up with the teasing, and decided the best defense was a good offense. He rolled over quickly enough to take Quatre by surprise, dumping his little blond angel back onto the bed, with Treize sprawled half over him. "My turn," the Specials officer growled, and set to work.

It didn't take him long before Quatre was gasping and writhing beneath him, making little cries of pleasure and entreaty. The boy's hips rocked beneath his body, trying to establish firmer contact with his own. Treize cupped his hands beneath the round globes of Quatre's ass, lifting him and granting that firmer contact.

They both groaned as their groins ground together through the strained fabric, panting softly as they rubbed sensuously together. The feeling of their sweat-slicked chests sliding together, combined with the delicious pressure on their erections, was enough to make them both tremble with barely contained desire.

Quatre moaned softly, nimble fingers twisting at the fasteners on Treize's pants, brushing against his heated length again and again as he worked. Treize half rolled onto his side to give him better access, and drew his breath in sharply between his teeth as his erection was freed to the chill air.

Not for long, though... Quatre wrapped a gentle hand around it and pumped, slowly, his soft skin sliding along the length of it with an exquisite friction. Treize hissed and threw his head back, eyes tightly closed.

The pleasurably sensations stopped abruptly, and he moaned a little at the loss. "Mischa, are you okay?" Quatre asked, and Treize opened his eyes to see Quatre's gaze full of worry. "Am I hurting you?"

"Oh, no..." he hastened to reassure his angel. "Not at all. Except possibly by stopping."

"Oh!" Quatre blushed most becomingly, and smiled sweetly. "In that case..." he removed his hand completely, grinning wickedly at Treize's half-voiced protest.

That protest died in the Colonel's throat, replaced by a strangled moan, as Quatre ducked his head and engulfed Treize's length in the heated wetness of his mouth. With a muffled curse, Treize wound his fingers deep into the strands of golden hair, fighting with himself not to choke the poor boy by thrusting upwards.

Quatre's mouth was inexperienced, but sweet, the heat of it searing Treize straight to his soul. The boy apparently seemed intent on treating it like an ice-cream cone - licking all around the sides, sucking gently on the top, and swirling his tongue all around it. The effect was incredible, and more erotic than what some of his more 'experienced' lovers could ever have produced.

"Quatre... Quatre, if you don't stop..." Treize panted, blushing, "I'm ashamed to say it, but this is going to be over far too soon... ahhhh... it's been far too long for me..."

With one last lick, and a distinctly self-satisfied smirk, Quatre abandoned his efforts and crawled his way back up the bed, to plant a steamy kiss on his new lover's lips. Treize tasted his own essence, and sighed happily.

"I enjoyed that," Quatre remarked, eyes sparkling. "I wasn't sure if I would, but I did. Thank you, Mischa."

"Thank YOU, dear boy!" Treize returned enthusiastically, softly caressing the planes of his face with slightly trembling fingers. "That was... intense. But, I'm being rude... I've hardly begun to pleasure you."

"Oh, that's okay, Mischa, I don't mind... ooohhh!!!" Quatre gasped as one long-fingered hand delved beneath the fabric of his khakis and briefs, to wrap around his length. Treize allowed himself a smirk of his own as the little blond squirmed and panted heavily beneath his touch.

"Shall I stop, then?" He queried lightly, and laughed when Quatre shook his head frantically, unable to put voice to his desires. With his free hand, he deftly released the remaining buttons from their holes, and tugged on the waist of the pants. Quatre lifted his hips, letting him slide the material down over his thighs, leaving his erection contained only in his thin cotton briefs.

Treize lifted one elegant eyebrow. _He may be a small boy, but there's nothing deficient about him in this area!_ Fingering the heated length appreciatively, he slowly slid the cotton briefs down to join the pants around Quatre's knees. _Lovely. Exquisite, in fact... just like everything else about him._

And almost unbelievably sensitive... Choked gasps were all Quatre was apparently capable of producing, as Treize continued to stroke him lovingly. Leaning down, he flicked the very tip of his tongue over the weeping slit, savouring the sweet-salty taste with the experience of a true connoisseur. Quatre was untouched by the - rather barbaric, Treize thought - practice of circumcision so prevalent in some areas, and the head of his penis was far more sensitive than that of someone who had been cut, as a result. Precum flooded over Treize's hand, slicking the shaft and allowing him to stroke with a better rhythm.

Quatre twisted beneath him, kicking off the last of his clothing, until he lay spread out before Treize like some golden angel, just begging to be taken. He was still incoherent, pleading wordlessly, and Treize reveled in the heights he was driving the boy to.

When he sensed Quatre was trembling near the brink, he slowed his hand, then stopped, drawing away completely. Quatre cried out, reaching for him blindly, not wanting the sensations to end. Treize quickly shed himself of his own pants and boxers, and briefly contemplated the best method he might use to possess this perfect child. _The bed is just about the right height... assuming I'm still flexible enough..._

"Quatre," he murmured into the boy's ear, even as he dug through the bedside drawer. These hotels had taken to making certain ALL their guests' needs would be fulfilled... "Are you certain? Now is the time to back out, if you're not..."

"No!" Quatre cried, wrapping his arms around his lover and holding tight, the threat of not finishing apparently granting him the ability to speak again. "Oh, Allah, Mischa, you can't leave me like this! Please, I need you..."

"Then you shall have me, my golden child," Treize replied, his fingers finding the tube he'd been looking for. Gently, he drew Quatre to the edge of the waist-high mattress, directing him to spread his legs apart and upwards. Quatre needed little encouragement, wrapping his hands around his knees and pulling upwards until they met his shoulders. He didn't look in the least uncomfortable in that position, and Treize marveled at his flexibility.

Squeezing a dollop of the cool oil onto his fingers, he waited a moment to let it warm to skin temperature. Then he began smoothing it over the tight rosebud of Quatre's anus, dipping a finger inside to coat the rim. Quatre moaned and thrust up against his hand, silently begging for more, and Treize felt himself responding. _If I'm not careful, neither of us is going to last long..._

He started to squeeze another handful out of the small tube, but Quatre dropped one leg and reached for it eagerly. "Please, Mischa, let me..." he begged, and Treize complied. Small, oil slick hands slid over his erection as he stood motionless at the side of the bed, willing his knees to continue to support him.

"Enough!" he finally growled, and tore Quatre's hands away from him. Much more of that, and he wouldn't put any guarantees on his own performance. Quatre resumed his wide-open position, bright eyes begging Treize to fill him, make him complete. Treize was more than happy to comply, fitting himself snugly against that tight ring of flesh, and pushing forward slowly.

"Ah... oh, Mischa! Oh, that's... wonderful..." Quatre moaned beneath him, squirming slightly against that impaling intruder. Treize thrust forward a little further, then drew out a bit, before pushing forward until he was as far in as he could possibly be.

"Oooooh...." Quatre winced, just a bit, then smiled hugely. "Oh, that's nice. I must admit, I never understood how this was supposed to be pleasurable, but... Mmmmm..."

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, dear heart," Treize replied, in a somewhat raspy voice, as he paused long enough for the much smaller boy to adjust to the sensation of being filled. "It only gets better from here."

Quatre didn't answer, only releasing his legs to let them wrap firmly around Treize's waist. Treize responded by withdrawing a few inches, then thrusting in again, trying to angle himself so that he'd brush up against that special spot, deep within...

Apparently he succeeded, for Quatre cried out, nearly screaming, as his eyes flew open wide. Treize smirked, and thrust again, and was rewarded with a sobbing moan.

"Oh... oh, Allah... Oh... ohhhhhhh..."

Treize slowly pumped into his lover a few times, keeping the pace slow, drawing out the experience for both of them. The fact that the mattress was just slightly below waist level caused Quatre's ass to be raised off the bed, a fact Treize took advantage of by squeezing those firm, round globes in time to his thrusts. Though his knees were shaking, he didn't give in to the temptation to lie on the bed, and remained standing.

Quatre was gripping the top cover of the bed in tight little fists, moaning and thrashing his head about with each thrust. Treize decided it was more than time for the next step... assuming he was still flexible enough...

Tugging the boy a little higher, he let his breath out and bent over nearly double, pleased to find he was still capable of such a feat. This action brought his mouth just within reach of Quatre's straining erection, and he took the very tip of it between his lips.

Quatre sobbed outright, thrusting up into that hot cavern, then screaming as Treize continued to thrust into his ass. The penetration was shallower than before, but the dual sensations of being filled and sucked more than made up for it. Treize swirled the tip of his tongue over Quatre's head, tracing the slit at the top and running along the juncture between head and shaft.

That was too much for the poor boy... with a warning shout, he exploded into Treize's mouth, flooding the warm cavern with his seed. Treize swallowed greedily; unlike some men, he genuinely enjoyed the taste of the physical manifestation of his lover's passion. His inner muscles clamped down on Treize's own arousal, still buried deeply in his body, and Treize abandoned his iron control.

"Quatre!" he cried his angel's name as he came, releasing the now-lax penis from his mouth and straightening to drive himself deeply into his lover. Quatre panted below him, overwhelmed by his own orgasm, unable to do more than gaze up at Treize through passion-filled eyes.

At last, Treize spent himself, and collapsed at his lover's side, cradling him gently in his arms. Quatre sighed, and snuggled up to the older man contentedly. "Thank you, Mischa," he murmured softly, nuzzling into the curve of Treize's shoulder. "That was... mind-blowing, to say the least. Even though we may never meet again, I will never forget you!"

"Nor I, you, my angel," Treize murmured.

"Can you stay? At least for a while? I've got a... a meeting I need to be at, early in the morning... but I would so like to wake up in your arms," Quatre pleaded with him. Treize smiled.

"I, too, have commitments in the morning... but I should be able to steal a few hours more with you. Now, sleep well, and I'll be with you when you wake."

"Suki da, Mischa," Quatre murmured sleepily, and Treize's heart contracted to hear it.

"Suki da, Quatre," he replied softly, and wished with all his heart that he didn't have to return to the world of politics so soon. He would have truly enjoyed a few days spent with this perfect angel, but his sense of duty simply would not allow it.

 

* * *

Quatre awoke to two sensations; the warm, pleasant feeling of his lover's arms around him, and the equally unpleasant, harsh beeping noise that had awoken him. He frowned, his mind still fuzzed with sleep... the noise seemed to be coming from the vicinity of Mischa's left wrist...

With a groan, the older man shifted enough to allow him to press the button on what was apparently a pager of some sort, built into his watch. He hadn't removed it during their lovemaking the night before.

"Lady, your timing, while normally impeccable, is rather horrid at this moment," his lover commented without opening his eyes. His voice was raspy with sleep and sated passion, and Quatre giggled quietly, thinking of the reaction the woman on the other end was probably having.

The cool voice that came back over the com threw proverbial cold water over him, and he felt his heart still in his chest. "Treize-sama, I'm very sorry to disturb you, but if you wish to be present for the 8:30 meeting, you really MUST return to the base now."

"What?" The man Quatre knew as 'Mischa' shoved himself up on one elbow, glancing over at the clock by the bedside. With a quiet oath, he swung his legs over the side, and reached for his pants. "Blast it, I didn't mean to sleep so late. Thank you, Lady. Please have my uniform ready for me when I return."

"Of course, Treize-sama. I shall stall the dignitaries until you arrive. Une out." With a click, the receiver went dead - and Quatre felt as if his emotions had died with it, replacing his soul with a numb, frozen place.

"Quatre, I'm so very sorry to run out on you like this..." Treize turned, now fully dressed, and apparently realized all was not right with his new lover, for his expression turned concerned. "Quatre, are you all right?"

Quatre sat up slowly, staring in disbelief at the man before him. "T-trieze?" he finally managed to stutter. "Y-you're... Treize Khushrenada?"

Treize grimaced, but nodded. "I see you're familiar with the name. Please, forgive me... it was not that I meant to deceive you, only that... I couldn't bear for it to spoil my time with you. I came here to try to escape the politics I'm now being called to face. Mischa is a nickname given to me in my youth."

"You... are... Treize Khushrenada. Head of the Specials?" Quatre asked, as if it might somehow be a different Treize Khushrenada. Treize nodded wearily. Quatre felt his heart spasm, then suddenly begin beating again, thudding away in double time. He raised one shaking hand to press against his chest, and laughed. The sound was not a little hysterical. "I... I don't believe this."

"Quatre... this is disturbing you more than I thought it would... are you..." Quatre cut him off by placing one gentle finger over his lips. There was a great sadness in his eyes - a sadness Treize would not understand until much, much later, when his intelligence brought him pictures of the two Gundam pilots accompanying Relena Peacecraft in the Sank Kingdom.

"It's okay," Quatre said softly, his gaze distant and vaguely unfocused. "It was wonderful, and I WILL never forget you, and what you meant to me last night. I... I can only ask you to forgive me."

"Why? You've done nothing..." Treize broke off as Quatre shook his head.

"You'll understand. Later. But... let's not part with anything between us, except wonderful memories. All right?"

Treize nodded, slowly, sensing that there was a great deal more going on than he understood. But he leaned down, and captured Quatre's lips in a soft, sweet, goodbye kiss. "Goodbye, Quatre. I will never forget you, either." With that, he stood, and silently left the room.

Quatre was left alone, and he found that all he really wanted to do was throw himself back onto the bed and cry. But no - he had a mission. A mission that might mean the difference between peace and war, between life and death for the colonies. And if that mission meant that he had to kill the man who had just filled his night with wonder...

Quatre's lips tightened, and his face firmed with resolve. "So be it," he murmured aloud. "If that's what it takes, then that's what I'll do. I only hope he'll forgive me, in the next life."

He made no move to brush away the single tear that slid down his cheek from over-bright eyes.


End file.
